


Consolation

by urbanMystic



Category: Carol (2015)
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Compliant, Cheating, F/F, Oral Sex, Smoking, or at least i tried really really hard to be, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 14:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6959953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urbanMystic/pseuds/urbanMystic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone asked for Carol x Abby smut and I couldn’t say no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consolation

Abby Gerhard was walking back to her dorm on Sarah Lawrence campus alone, thinking about how long her first semester had been. She was already overjoyed at the support she found here, joined a women’s rights group, and had come out to one of her professors. It may have been another long reach of grass and stuffy buildings, but the people that filled them were much better than the ones she left at home.

 

Well, except for one person.

 

Coming up to the dormitories, she was scrambling around her coat pockets for the key. December had been warmer than usual, but not by much, and her hands were a bit too cold to handle delicate tasks easily.

 

“Excuse me, miss? Do you know where I might find the Hill House?”

 

Abby was turning around to say “You’re looking at it,” when she realized it was none other than Carol Miller who was asking. So it came out more like, “You’re looking at i-wooooaaaaah! Aaaaaaah Carol!”

 

The two friends hugged, grinning wildly. Miss Miller held her friend a moment and explained, “My finals were over early, and it’s been so dull without you for the past months.”

 

“Hey, I visited at midterms,” Abby protested, breaking the hug.

 

“Yes, and almost got me kicked out of the dorms for drinking.”

 

“I suppose that’s why you missed me?”

 

Carol pinched her friend's cheek, “More than that, you buffoon.”

 

Abby finally got her keys in hand and held them up, “Come meet my roommates.”

 

“With pleasure.”

 

The dorm was a tall building, holding four six-person apartments on each floor. Abby lived on the 4th floor with other humanities majors. It was surprisingly well kept, though not well furnished, with a chore wheel, announcements, and rules posted on a corkboard hung up by one of the other roommates.

 

“Miss Gerhard, that has got to be the ugliest couch I have ever seen in my life.”

 

“I know. Isn’t it swell?”

 

Carol lifted an eyebrow in response. Abby grinned, loving the way she could get under the other woman’s skin.

 

Hours later, they were sitting around the living room with three of Abby’s roommates, sharing a bottle of gin purchased by the eldest, and going on about all sorts of things.

 

“Enough about the fascists, Sarah, you’re making our guest uncomfortable,” Lauren prodded.

 

Sarah gave in, “Alright, then I demand a story from our guest of honor.”

 

“Oh?” Carol raised an eyebrow and sipped her gin, “What story?”

 

“How did Abby get the name tomcat?” Sarah asked.

 

“Oh, no,” Abby pushed in, “No one needs to hear this.”

 

“I think,” Carol grinned wildly, “That everyone needs to hear this.”

 

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Abby complained.

 

“Oh hush,” Lauren giggled, “You know you like being center stage.”

 

“It’s very true,” Carol agreed, patting Abby on the shoulder, “So it all happened in third grade. Abby had gotten in a fight with Joey Carbone, which landed all three of us in detention-”

 

“Wait,” Sarah interjected, “All three?”

 

Abby smiled, “Carol jumped in and tried to stop the fight, my heroine, and slapped Joey across the face when he came for her.”

 

The roommates all clapped a bit. “Well, what happened?”

 

Carol took back over, “Anyway, in detention, Abby and Joey picked a time to fight after school the next day. Joey stayed home the next day when his parents’ found out he had been fighting a girl. Well, Our dear stubborn Abby wouldn’t be satisfied by this, walked over to his house, climbed the fence, and hollered for an hour for him to come out.”

 

The room was in stitches. Abby was beet red. Carol looked like the cat that ate a canary.

 

\---

 

The American midwest in the summer of 2015 was a flat,boring place. It was just as boring in 1946, unless you were Abby Gerhard. With a 1943 Ford pickup full of antiques and her best friend in the passenger seat, it had been a great week. The butch brunette walked into a motel room and set down her bag with a contented grunt.

 

“We had quite a haul today,” she called out to her travel companion.

 

Carol Aird, the slightly taller best friend in question, walked in shortly after, “Yes, and I’m quite impressed with how you jimmied a rig to get the chair out of the barn.”

 

“Well,” Abby grinned and dug through her belongings, “Get ready to be more impressed with how I found a bottle of decent whiskey at the last gas station.”

 

Carol whined playfully, “And cigarettes?”

 

“They’re lucky strike, unfortunately.”

 

Carol set down her bags and started pulling out her toiletries. “You’re no guardian angel, but you make a very lovely shoulder devil.”

 

“I did technically bootleg this across a state line,” she snarked back.

 

Carol took her toiletries and a change of clothes toward the bathroom, “Oh no, not an entire 8th of whiskey.”

 

Abby could hear her friend's eyes roll as she poured two neat ryes and lit herself a smoke. Outside, the summer sunset was just finishing its daily repainting of the sky. Stars began to whisper in the dark blue of the night, and the flat plains had one of those rare moments of peace rather than monotony.

 

Carol came out of the shower 20 minutes later looking fresh as a daisy. She grabbed her whiskey and lit a smoke. “Abby, the shower is free.”

 

Abby sauntered over, still dusty and sticky from the day. “You mean you don’t want to be in close quarters with all this dirt and sweat?”

 

The blonde hit her friend in the shoulder. “No. Go shower.”

 

Pajamas were gathered, along with toiletries, and 5 minutes later Abby looked every inch the messy tomboy Carol had befriended all those years ago. The still-damp woman poured a second shot of whiskey and sat next to her friend on the full size bed. Abby leaned in, pressing her upper torso into Carol’s arm and laying her chin on her friend’s shoulder.

 

“Your chin hurts, dearest,” the human shelf protested.

 

The brunette leaned back slightly, setting her drink on the side table and offering up her hand for contact.The hand sat palm up in Carol’s lap, and she let her fingertips start to trace over the hills and valleys so graciously offered to her.

 

It was simple and comforting, a moment of touch without expectation or fear. While Abby had been in the shower, the door had been locked, the curtains closed, and the lights turned off save for one lamp on the nightstand. They were completely alone. Carol’s fingertips kept exploring, taking in the muscle of Abby’s forearm under silky skin, so different from the musk and roughness of Mr. Aird. Here, she felt a part of her come back, something that had waited inside her with infinite patience.

 

Abby felt herself wake too, but it was a song in her veins she had never not heard. It wrapped around her like the wind, filling the world with music few could hear. She let her palm rise to dance with the fingertips that had traced them: pushes and pulls, caresses and touches, advances and retreats. Hands danced, and then arms. Drinks were forgotten on the side table, and the two women lay back on the bed. Abby traced Carol’s jawline to elicit a familiar a deep groan. Carol pulled her lover in closer, unafraid to grasp the hip under soft pajamas. 

 

“Are we going to do this again?” Abby asked. The question hung in Carol’s stomach like a rock.

 

“I don’t know,” she whispered, “Yes. We shouldn’t.”

 

“What about Harge?”

 

“Harge.” Carol rolled over and pinned Abby by the shoulders, “doesn’t touch me. You do.”

 

“And if I stop? Will you find someone else?” Brown eyes met gray with a moment of unexpected hardness.

 

Carol softened to see the hurt in those eyes. “You’re different, Abby, you know that.”

 

Abby sighed. “I do. But I can’t shake the feeling that this is wrong.”

 

“I don’t care,” came the plea, “I need this.”

 

“If you need this so much, why not leave Harge?”

 

“It’s not that simple, Abby.”

 

“Yes it is.”

 

“Don’t you worry? That you’ll get caught?” Carol was still poised over her lover.

 

“No,” she had a sad smile, “It wouldn’t help if I did. And I can’t- I could never-”

 

“I know.”

 

There was a pause, and then Gerhard noted, “He’ll find out someday.”

 

“He will. But I don’t have the strength to care.” Carol lowed onto her elbows, letting her weight press into the body below, “Does it hurt you that I’m still with him?”

 

“I don’t care that you have a husband,” Abby replied, “I care that you have to lie. It’s eating you already.”

 

“I’m asking about your feelings, not mine.”

 

“I’m used to being a secret. It’s almost home by now.”

 

“Abby,” Carol said the name in reverence, kissing her deeply, tongue only gently skirting the inside of her lips. A purr rose up from Abby’s throat.

 

The soft tongue slid into Abby’s mouth again, and she melted. There would be time for all of this later. Now, she felt her chest open and her mouth water to taste Carol. That high femme made her breath catch every time. Now, with that perfume filling her nostrils, Abby let her jaw slack and gave Carol her mouth. It was filled with the most delicate of touches, tongue over tongue, lips pulling away and pressing together again. What really electrified Abby, however, was the sound of Carol’s breathing, deep and desperate.

 

Lips parted, and kisses trialed down the brunette’s neck. She sighed, relaxing. Her hands came up to slide under Carol’s top, protesting the clothing between them.

 

“Do you want me to take that off?”

 

“I want you to take off a lot more than just that.”

 

The last light source was turned off. Clothing was thrown on the floor in rapid succession, but the two lovers could hardly separate, kissing and rolling around throughout the process. The end of the disrobing found them reversed, with Abby over Carol, hips grinding into hips, trim dark hair meeting overgrown blonde curls. 

 

Soon kisses were trailing all over Carol’s bare torso, and she buried her fingers in the dark hair she had grown accustomed to. Her breath shuddered and grew shallow, but it was never really possible for the debutante to moan freely. Abby knew how to take her time, to savour every curve and provide her partner with a myriad of sensations to get lost in. The pad of a fingertip is different from the nail, but the crescendo between them is heavenly. It’s important to float between sensitive skin and less sensitive skin to not overwhelm the body, to be an orchestra and not a rock concert.

 

They were truly lost together, in a timeless frame of mind, dizzy from the want and the flavour. When Abby did finally decide to attend to Carol’s vulva, it was engorged with blood, flush and wrinkled like an orchid. Cornsilk hair was laid out of the way with a flat tongue, and then Abby took a few good long inhales of the scent. Behind the perfume and the smokes and the whiskey, Carol’s true scent was a bright one, almost lemongrass over the full bodied nose of briny seaweed. Starting at her entrance, Abby carefully lapped up every drop she could find of the tart natural lubricant, mucus amongst mangroves. 

 

Carol was laying on her back, her hips scooted to the edge of the bed, hands on Abby’s head like the pope giving a blessing. Abby was on her knees, arms wrapped up around the thighs by her head, praying as only sinners do, with perfect devotion and no remorse. The song of them was slight whines and long shuddering breaths with the occasional staccato of Abby’s soft moans.

 

Abby licked upwards, tongue flat and soft, then digging into the crevices between labia, moving them aside as well, but not before sucking on the larger of the two to feel its tissue paper delicacy under her lips. Finally, with a whine from above, Abby dug into the clit she had been so generously allowed to enjoy. Flat tongue, easy rhythm, varying between moving her neck and moving her body, Abby could feel her hips grinding into the air. She was an ocean wave curling up onto Carol’s shore, and no one had any rush to get anywhere.

 

Carol may not have been loud, but there was a reason her hips had been held onto the carefully. Her entire body burned to focus on that critical nerve, to buck under that mouth without regret, to feel herself filling up, quenching a thirst that water could never satisfy. As Abby continued, the room fell away, and Carol felt herself come undone.

 

As reality pieced itself back together for Carol, she found herself wrapped in a pair of familiar arms, a panting body next to her in the dark. 

 

“Please,” was whispered, hot breath on sweaty neck.

 

“How could I say no to you?” was the response, tenderness abounding.

 

The dense crown of hair on Abby’s outer lips was already dewy, but Carol wanted to show Abby care, not just finish her off. Moving up on the bed, the shorter brunette became little spoon. Carol bent one arm up under the pillows and the other grazed over the pale hip, causing a hitch in Abby’s breath.

 

Where Carol enjoyed the quiet and the dark, Abby _needed_ to be talked to. Honestly, it was often wiser to think of fucking the secretly-muscled butch as a verbal exercise rather than a physical one.

 

“So patient,” she crooned, “the way you love me. Even though you know every part, I’m being explored like the first time.”

 

Hips pressed back into warmth as Carol’s hands caressed what they could reach: the tops of thighs, the pouch of Abby’s stomach, teasing the junction of her legs, but not yet touching her chest.

 

The words continued, slowly, “You feel as though you have a fever, dearest. Is this what I do to you? Do you burn this way when I’m not next to you?”

 

“Y-yes,” Abby shuddered as a well-manicured hand began teasing her nipple.

 

“I’m glad,” the phrase was punctuated with a kiss on Abby’s shoulder, “It’s similar for me, you know. When you’re not around I’m always a bit hungry.”

 

The teasing continued in silence for a bit, interspersed with important caresses. “Carol, please,” came the whisper.

 

“Oh? I like the sound of this.” A hand slid down to rest right above Abby’s critical point, still tracing lightly. “You must want this very badly.”

 

Abby nodded. “Yes.”

 

“Say it, won’t you? I know how you like to ask.”

 

“God, just fuck me already.”

 

With that, Carol slid her fingers into Abby’s wetness and coated her fingers in the thick drool before starting to rub the hood of the clit in delicate circles. Abby shuddered and bit her lip to keep from crying out. The walls were thin, after all. Reality faded away for her, too, there was only a sensation like the ocean wave from before, she could feel her entire body give into it, with only Carol’s arms to keep her from slipping into the other side of what lay beyond this frenzy. In short order, she hit her climax, pulled taut in the night like Diana’s very own bowstring.

 

Fuzzy headed, the two fell asleep that way, the drift to sleep and the come down from orgasm fading into each other so nicely, a good 20 minute haze before the void.

 

The next morning found them reluctant to move, silent in the sunless room, clothes and drinks still akimbo from the night before. As Abby stirred, Carol kissed her shoulder again.

 

“Good Morning, my tomcat.”

 

“Hmm. Morning,” Abby groaned and turned round to face her lover,“You’re a damned tease, you know that?”

 

“My tomcat, my darling, my love,” Carol replied, “You are absolutely not allowed to complain before I’ve had coffee and a cigarette.”

 

Abby laughed and got up to start another day of travel.

 

\---

 

“Abby, I’m pregnant.” Carol was standing, coat still on, bag in hand, in Abby’s entranceway. It was a miserable day outside and her usually pristine curls were ruined with rain. She had neglected the headscarves and umbrellas at her disposal.

 

Dressed for a night out, Abby stood there stone faced. Her chest felt ripped in two. She knew what was coming. She had known, but it had been so easy to pretend, to hope.

 

“And you drove all the way here just to tell me we’re over?” Her voice shook.

 

Carol hung her bag. “No, I came here to take care of you.”

 

“We could have adopted.”

 

“Not legally. And we would have been sent to the sanatorium eventually.” The blueblood hung her coat and kicked off her shoes. She knew exactly what was to happen. As soon as the result of the test came back, she knew.

 

Abby leaned on a nearby table, staring a hole into the top of it. “I suppose that’s the end of our business.”

 

Carol stood behind her and waited, dutifully, “Yes, tomcat, I’m afraid it is.”

 

Abby kind of… sank. To the floor. Carol was there, waiting, arms open for Abby to fall into. In a heartbeat, the brunette was a sobbing mess. No one but Abby would have wanted to be held by the person who just left her, but here they were, right where they needed to be. Carol had worn the only skirt she had with pockets and lined them with tissues and antacids. Abby slowly worked her way through them, and the femme couldn’t help but smile and tear up at how predictable her friend was: the most familiar grief.

 

As Abby’s crying wound down, Carol simply held her in silence for a while before asking the question that was piercing her own heart, “Do you detest me now?”

 

“Never.”

 

“May we be friends in a season?”

 

“We can be friends now, you nitwit,” Abby chewed an antacid.

 

“Can you forgive me for still loving you?”

 

“Only if you can do the same for me.”

 

Abby stood up and started picking up her pile of used tissues. “I should take a shower and let the girls know I’m staying in tonight.”

 

“I should go,” Carol was surprised at the crack in her voice.

 

“Who’s gonna help you?”

 

“Harge. I can blame it on those mysterious feminine hormonal shifts.” She wiggled her fingers for additional effect.

 

They both laughed halfheartedly.

 

“See you around, Abby.”

 

“Don’t drink anything!”

 

“Oh! I forgot.” 

 

“Yeah, you’ve wanted a child your entire life and never thought about having to go dry for 9 months. Only you.”

 

“Good _night,_ darling.”

 

With that, the door shut. Abby felt relieved, in an odd way, for the whole mess to be over. At least no one could ever say Abby Gerhard didn’t follow her heart, and the post-cry endorphins were a nice consolation.


End file.
